The Last Uchiha
by undercoverchad
Summary: Sasuke is dead, and the son he leaves behind puts Sakura at a terrible risk that she doesn't know yet. Someone else is hunting the boy. Sakura's POV, Multipairing
1. War's Aftermath

The Last Uchiha

by undercoverchad

Obligatory Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masahi Kishimoto. I only borrow the characters and torture them a bit if they don't behave.

Warnings: Spoilers up to the latest manga chapter, although this story sets off pretty much on its own. Rating may change further on in the story.

Summary: Sasuke is dead, and Naruto and Sakura must come to terms with his death, and with each other. But the legacy he leaves behind still affects those who were closest to him, as well as draws enemies thought to be long dead. What happened during all those years he spent as a missing-nin?

* * *

Chapter One: War's Aftermath

* * *

_The Monster War was headed by Orochimaru (5.3: Exiled Nins), founder of the hidden __village__ of __Sound__ and one of the three legendary Sannin formerly from Konoha. It finally came to a conclusion eight years after the Sound's first attack on Konoha, upon the assassination of Orochimaru by Uzumaki Naruto (5.1: Influential Ninja Leaders). Devastating losses were sustained by Konoha, as well as its ally, the Sand, but the Sound threat was wiped out until this day. _

_Excerpt from History of the Fire Lands (5th Edition)_

* * *

It is hard to describe what the last days of the war were like. Not out of any difficulty in remembering; the chaos, destruction and wanton loss of life of that period of time are burned into my memory for the rest of my life. But it is because I will not forget, that I want no part in bringing the nightmare images that haunt my sleep to those who have had the grace not to witness it. 

The history books will record each battle and its outcome, as well as the heroes and villains that rise to prominence with their feats of bravery and cruelty. Historians will debate the causes of the war and its economic impacts on the parties involved. There might be vague descriptions of the atrocities committed, by both sides, or the sacrifices made by those who have nothing left to contribute but their lives. Only the important historical facts will be recorded. Orochimaru was destroyed, Konoha wins. Nowhere in the books will it mention the true cost that was paid. Perhaps as an interesting footnote, they might record which body Orochimaru was using at the time of his destruction.

Naruto was there at the last. I had been dispatched back to base camp to aid what wounded I could, of which there were many, and it was he who brought me the news – battered and bloody – that he couldn't keep the promise he'd made to me eight years before. It was Naruto who brought me the child.

Pale and frightened, he clung to Naruto's leg and stared at me. I didn't have to ask whose child he was, but I wondered if he knew that the man he thought of as his saviour was the same one who had killed his father.

"What's your name?" I asked him. He stared at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity in dark eyes that would one day reflect the crimson of his bloodline. Naruto nudged him gently when he didn't answer.

"M'Itachi," he muttered. The name struck me like a fist to the chest. Why would Sasuke name his only child after the man he'd hated for so long? Unless…

I turned to Naruto. "How old is he?"

If he was surprised by the tone of my voice, he didn't show it. He'd probably made the same deductions already. "Four years last summer."

Four years old. Sasuke had been sixteen or younger when he'd impregnated some woman. _Sixteen_. It took at least three years of preparations before the soul transfer jutsu was ready to be performed, and Sasuke had left when he was twelve. The child before me might be Sasuke's biological son, but I wondered if he had intended for one, or if he even had a choice in the naming, or whether it was Orochimaru's own cruel joke.

"Sakura," said Naruto gently. He'd given the child over to the care of one of the nurses and we were now alone in the tent. It was only then that I saw how exhausted he was. Blood and dirt had caked his face and matted the once bright hair, and he was holding himself like a man in great pain. But I suspected the worst of his injuries was nothing physical. His cornflower blue eyes were dry, but red-rimmed, and filled with the immeasurable grief and defeat that must be radiating from my own. He had loved Sasuke too, in his own way.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, not wanting to hear the details yet. "You're wounded and here I am wool-gathering." I got him to sit down on one of the cots and remove his jacket. The shirt underneath was stiff with blood and had to be cut off, carefully, from the wounds. I saw then, that most of the blood wasn't his, because his wounds were chakra inflicted, and thus, already cauterised. The most severe was the one in his left shoulder. It would have been fatal for most men, requiring amputation at the very least, but Naruto was not like anyone I'd ever known. A gaping hole with seared, blackened edges and burns radiating out from the centre, it went almost right through to his back, and probably had, but for his extreme healing rate.

I'd seen wounds like this before, on Haku, whom Kakashi had killed and on Naruto when he was brought back from the failed mission eight years ago. I knew what caused them. Looking down on the remains of Naruto's blood-stiffened shirt in my hands, I had to force myself to take a few deep breaths.

"Sakura?" A hand, callused and dirty came down hesitantly over mine. I wrenched away from it almost instinctively, then looked up into Naruto's eyes to see the additional hurt I had caused.

"I'm sorry," I said again, inadequately, because it wasn't his fault at all that Sasuke was dead. His may have been the hand that had done it, but it was never his fault, no matter how much that treacherous voice inside my head wanted to blame him.

He looked at me steadily. "So am I," he said, and his words held a world of sorrow. "More than you can ever know." He stood up then, picking up his jacket from the floor, and was at the tent-flap which served as the door before I realised that he intended to just walk out without receiving any medical treatment.

"It's alright," he said, when I tried to stop him. "I'll heal on my own. I understand how you feel. At the moment, I don't think I can even face myself in a mirror." He turned his head and tried a smile, which only made him look sadder than ever. "Come find me when you're ready to talk."

I let him leave because I wasn't.

* * *

Orochimaru's death had been the decisive factor in our winning of the war. Leaderless, the disorganised Sound nins fled the allied forces of Leaf and Sand. Kabuto, as Orochimaru's general, had rallied the remnants of the Sound army, and had held out for awhile, but was brought down by a concerted attack. 

ANBU units and hunter-nins tracked the surrounding countryside for remaining rebels for days until the Hokage and Kazekage declared the Sound threat eliminated. All in all, the actual fighting had taken little more than a fortnight. Would that the aftermath of war took such a short time to end. In the medical tents, there were nins – some of them still young enough to be considered children – who would be scarred for the rest of their lives by their experiences. Those were the lucky ones. Relatives of the unlucky ones were even now making their way back to Konoha for the three day mass memorial service to be held at the end of the month.

Uchiha Sasuke's name was not on the list of the dead to be honoured, nor was it to be inscribed on the memorial stone.

I did not know what they did with his body either, but two days after the last battle, a great column of black smoke rose from the north, visible even from the base camp. One of the injured ANBU remarked that they were 'finally burning those dead bastards'. The air was acrid for days.

Sasuke's son remained at the medical tent. As captain of one of the ANBU teams, Naruto had duties that could not include taking care of a young boy. Part of me wondered if he could not face the child because of the resemblance to his father, but I knew it was unfair of me.

Shy and withdrawn at first, little Itachi soon made himself popular with the nurses, by offering help or running errands without complaint, and by just being irresistibly adorable. Even I found the ice around my heart melting a little at the sight of a black-haired boy chattering animatedly with a patient, though a part of that might have to do with the memories I still retained of his father. He was so like, and yet unlike Sasuke. When I looked at him I couldn't help but see in him the brooding boy that I had loved for such a long time, who had been my companion for only one short year. And yet, Sasuke had never smiled at me like little Itachi did. Had never willingly held out a hand for me to take.

He nearly gave me a heart attack the second night he slept over in my tent. Having taken a little time to get over his shyness with me, he soon proved to be an exuberant talker, surprisingly articulate for one so young. But then again, he was the son of Sasuke – prodigal genius extraordinaire.

One of the first questions he asked me was: "Are you my mother?"

I tried to will my heart to slow down, and managed not to stutter. "Why would you say that?" He gave me a look of clear-eyed innocence, too young to understand what that question, and all its subtleties meant to me.

"Father talked a lot about you when he was nice."

I made a mental note to find out what that meant. "How do you know it was me?"

"You're the only pink-haired lady around."

"I see. And what did he tell you then?" Not that I would keep my fingers crossed about him saying anything good about me. We hadn't exactly parted on mutually amicable terms after all.

Itachi swung his legs back and forth on the cot. "That you're nice, an' lots of other nice things too."

That was a pleasant surprise, and one that touched me more than I cared to admit. But there was no time to dwell on whatever Sasuke may have said. Itachi was watching me closely, black eyes bright in the flickering lamplight, waiting for an answer that I wanted so badly to give. I had once wished for this, a child like this, because it would have meant that Sasuke was mine.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "But I'm not your mother."

He looked downcast for a moment, then whispered, "Can I still call you mother?" There was an aching need in his voice, the sort of yearning for family that I sometimes caught in Naruto's eyes.

"I'm afraid not, honey. It wouldn't be fair to your real mother." The look of disappointment in his eyes made me wish I could say otherwise. "But," I offered, "You can call me Aunt Sakura."

One thing that had worried me was whether Itachi knew what had happened to his father. In the last two days I had spent with him, he hadn't asked for once, or spoken of, Sasuke at all. His eyes went flat when I broached the subject with him.

"Father's dead." he said abruptly.

My god, had he actually seen Sasuke die? Or had Naruto already told him? If he had, he hadn't mentioned it to me. But Itachi shook his head when I asked him if that was how he knew.

"Father told me he was going to die. Then the old man took me away." He made a face. "I don't like the old man," he confided in a whisper.

I drew my own conclusions from that conversation. Itachi didn't seem affected by his father's death, and I guessed that relations between them were estranged. After all, by the time he was old enough to recognise Sasuke as his father, Orochimaru had already taken over, if he hadn't been the one to actually father the child. It was no wonder that they were not close. Orochimaru as a nurturing father figure was a chilling thought.

In any case, he behaved as any normal child might, and the nurses under me grew quite fond of him.

Not everyone was taken by him though. Once, as I was walking past one of the tents, the clang of metal, a gasp of dismay and raised voices caught my attention.

Peering in, I saw a nurse trying to calm the patient, an injured jounin, while Itachi cowered at the foot of the bed, looking close to tears. A metal basin lay upended on the floor nearby, the clean water it held dampening the earthen ground.

"You get that traitor's spawn away from me," raged the jounin. He was bandaged across his chest and one of his legs was in a splint. "I won't have that bastard's offspring here." He leaned forward then, glaring at the child with unmistakeable hate. "Did you think you could rectify your father's sins, eh? He got what he deserved, and so will you, mark my words. Creatures like you shouldn't be allowed to exist."

I thought it was high time I intervened, and stepped into the tent. "That's quite enough, Shinkichi. The child had nothing to do with Orochimaru, and shame on you for saying such things." Then, more gently to the frightened boy, "Come away, Itachi. I have something for you to do." Shinkichi remained unabashed, and it was in the days to come that I realised that he was only one out of a growing number of people who knew of Itachi's parentage and despised him for it.

I wondered at the irony of it. That Sasuke – who had been the golden boy of the village before he left – had a son who would in all likelihood undergo a childhood similar to Naruto's. Prejudice, when it's unjustified, can be a very difficult thing to face, especially when you were only a child. But unlike Naruto, I was determined that Itachi would never have to face it alone.

I remembered the expression on his face as he held on to my hand while we walked back to the main camp. Four-year old children should be shouting and running about, not looking abjectly miserable because an adult wished him dead.

"Aunt Sakura?" he whispered. "Why did that man hate me?"

Four-year olds should not know the meaning of hate. I squeezed his hand and wished fiercely at that moment that Shinkichi one day understood what his words had done to this child.

"Because he is an ignorant man." I would not lie to him, or tell him placating fabrications. He deserved better than that, and it would be better for him to hear the truth from me before those who hated him twisted his mind with their denigrations. It was a miracle that Naruto had turned out as the fine man he was. I stopped and crouched down to face Itachi, struggling to express in words that he would understand.

"Listen, Itachi. There will be people you will meet who will say many bad things to you. They will do so because they are angry at your father, but because he isn't here, they will take it out on you instead. You must never be afraid of them, do you understand?"

He nodded solemnly. Then, showing a wisdom far above that of a four-year old's, he said, "Father hurt many people, didn't he?"

I'd made a promise to myself that I wouldn't lie to the child. "Yes, yes he did, but what made you say that?"

He shrugged. "He hurt me too."

He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if it didn't concern him at all. I gripped him by the shoulders. There had been bruises on his body, but I'd just assumed that they had been obtained during the fighting.

"Did he beat you?"

"Only when he was in his mean moods. I stayed away from him then."

I'd noted something that he'd mentioned before, and began to suspect something that made my heart thump at the possibility. "Itachi, did your father seem like two different people? Was he nice to you sometimes, then mean?"

He looked at me in wonder. "How did you know?"

If what I suspected was true, then Orochimaru had not been able to fully take over Sasuke's body. He'd managed to rebel somehow, to break free at times. But how could I explain to this child that his father really _had_ been two different people?

"Your father was possessed by an evil spirit," I told him, because technically, Orochimaru could fall into that category.

The explanation seemed to make him feel better though, since he said, more cheerfully than before, "Really? Then it was the evil spirit who hated me then." I didn't have the heart to agree or disagree with him, because I didn't know what Sasuke was like anymore, he'd proved that when he left, and now I no longer had the chance. The one person that might have any idea of what Sasuke had been like, or what life for him had been like the last few years was Naruto, and I was nowhere near ready to talk to him, to hear about Sasuke's last moments on earth.

But it seemed that I would have to, soon, if I wanted to know why Sasuke didn't kill himself when he had the chance to, and rid us all of the threat that was Orochimaru.

* * *

To be continued

A/N: Well, that's it for the first chapter, I hope you liked the story so far. I've already got the next three chapters planned out, though I'm hesitant about posting if this chapter is not well received. So please, review and tell me what you think, I'd really like to know, especially if you have any constructive criticism to offer, since I'm blind in the area of my work, but then again, all authors are.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

undercoverchad


	2. The Hardest Truths

The Last Uchiha

by undercoverchad

* * *

Chapter Two: The Hardest Truths

* * *

_Naruto and I are alike in that respect. We are both alone. And yet, one can argue that at least I had the acknowledgement of others. Let me tell you this: It is just as lonely atop a pedestal, and this was the only way I could find to get off it._

_Uchiha Sasuke_

* * *

I saw Naruto on the last day of the memorial service. Most of us of jounin rank had been too busy planning the rebuilding efforts or involved in securing our borders to attend the first two days. But everyone – barring those on sentry duty – made it to the last. It was a sadly diminished group of Konoha's ninjas that were present that day. The majority of those attending were civilian relatives of the deceased. 

The ceremony was even longer and drearier than the Sandaime's funeral had been, and though it didn't rain this time, the black-garbed participants provided their own thundercloud. It took fully an hour to finish listing the names of the dead. The memorial stone would be receiving a lot more visitors now.

Everyone I knew had lost someone. Tenten was gone, just as she and Neji had begun to find happiness in each other, and I saw him standing slightly apart from Gai and Lee, pale face set in the determination not to weep. His opaque eyes burned with repressed rage and grief, and I pitied the few Sound prisoners we held in our cells. I doubted they would outlive the week.

Hinata stood near her cousin, ready to provide comfort that he would not accept, though she herself was grieving over the loss of both her old team mates. I could see Ino, near the steps of the raised dais, hand in hand with Shikamaru, while Asuma stood behind them with his hands on both their shoulders. For once, he didn't have a cigarette in his mouth. All three had tears rolling down their faces.

He was standing near the back of the crowd, his bright hair distinctive amidst the sea of black, and gave me a grim nod as I made my way over to him. We were probably the only ones grieving for someone not on the list being read out.

"Have you seen Kakashi?" I asked, after scanning the sombre faces around me for one I recognised.

"I don't think he's coming. He's not at the memorial stone either," he added, "I checked. Where's Itachi?"

It still gave me an odd sort of shock to hear that name. Programmed into my brain for years as one to watch out for, it was difficult to get honed reflexes to relax at the mere mention of that name. "He's at the hospital. I didn't think he should be here, and the nurses will keep an eye out for him."

Naruto nodded. "I think it's better if he stayed away too." he said, and I knew he understood even if he hadn't heard the derogatory remarks about the child, which was unlikely. Few gathered here would be pleased to see the son of the man who had betrayed Konoha. Not that Orochimaru wouldn't have attacked even if Sasuke hadn't joined up with him; the villagers would still see it as such and they weren't inclined to be forgiving. Not after the losses we had suffered.

"Listen," I said. "What are you doing tonight, after this is over?" I'd procrastinated long enough, and I thought, since today was already such a horrible day, why not keep it that way? It was better than hearing the truth on a good day.

He stared at me for a moment, azure eyes sharp. "You sure you want to do this?"

"No," I said, taking a deep breath. "But it has to be done. I need some answers."

He looked away. "You want to do it over dinner?"

I shook my head. "I have to go fetch Itachi once this is over. I'll come see you after."

The rest of the memorial service went by in a grey blur, culminating at the first touch of dusk. The crowd began to disperse then, slowly and in small, hushed groups, because it wasn't a day when anyone felt like being alone. I made my way down to the hospital, taking Itachi off the hands of the head nurse on duty, wondering what I was to do with him if I had to go on a mission. Some medical nins rarely left the village, but with Konoha more short-handed than ever after the war, that wasn't a possibility for me.

We ate at a sushi bar on the way home, and Itachi went to bed early, worn out from his day at the hospital.

* * *

Naruto's apartment was in one of the older complexes west of the village central, and situated at the end of the hall on the third floor. As I ascended, I detected the presence of someone above me, and rounding the stairwell, came face to face with none other than Hyuuga Hinata. 

"Good evening, Sakura-san." she said formally. I exchanged greetings with her, noticing that she was still dressed in the formal mourning robes I'd seen her in at the service. I suspected that black was going to be a very popular colour for a while, and I too was wearing it, though I had taken the time to change into more comfortable pants and shirt rather than the kimono for ceremonies.

"You came straight after the service?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, only twiddling her fingers a little, but looking at me directly. She'd come far after that first chuunin exam, and I'd heard that Hyuuga Hiashi was considering reinstating her as the clan heir.

We exchanged small talk for a while, the usual absurd how are you's when we both knew exactly how it was with those we held dear long turned to ashes on the wind.

"How is the boy?" she inquired politely. "Is he coping well?" I thought at first that she was asking out of sheer courtesy, but one glance showed me the sincerity in her eyes. Hinata was the sort who truly cared about people, regardless of what others said about them, which was only one of the reasons why Naruto loved her. I talked about Itachi for a while, glad to have someone able to offer advice to a few of my worries, before dredging up the courage to ask the question I really wanted to.

"How is he?" Today was the first time I'd seen him since he'd brought Itachi to me, and though he'd seemed alright at the service, there had been a certain tightness around his eyes every time he looked at me. I remembered the way I'd reacted to him after the battle, and felt guilt, ever present now, swamp over me again.

Hinata looked at me shrewdly. "He needs you to forgive him." she said, proving herself to be just as perceptive without activating her Byakugen.

I couldn't tell her that I already had, because I knew the truth was that I hadn't, not yet. So I just nodded.

"I'll try," I told her. It would have to be enough, for now. She gave me a sympathetic look.

"I must be heading back, or my father will worry." she said, laying her hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Take care, Sakura."

When she left, I continued up the steps to Naruto's apartment, stopping before his door. The doubts I'd been having all day assailed me then.

Did I really want to do this? There'd be no going back once I'd heard what actually happened. No preserving of that image of Sasuke as he was; a boy, too serious for his age, but given to the rare, true smiles that I'd carefully treasured in my memory. After this, the only image I would have to haunt me through the night would be of him dead. Or worse still, Sasuke alive and well but with Orochimaru's smile.

My hand hovered over the door.

If I let it fall, and walked away, I'd never know if my suspicions were correct, that he'd still been alive, that his soul had not been expelled to the gods only knew where or consumed. Never know who Itachi's mother was, or if he'd been loved.

Never know why Sasuke didn't kill himself and Orochimaru with him when he had the chance. If he hadn't, did it mean he'd given himself over to evil, or was there something else I was missing? Some greater danger that he'd been trying to prevent?

Or was Sasuke only another coward?

I knocked then, and barely had my knuckles connected with the wood when the door swung open to reveal Naruto, dressed in a dark shirt and pants. He gave me a quick smile, and I realised he must have been standing on the other side of the door the whole time, waiting to see if I would go through with it or chicken out in the end. It was unthinkable for an ANBU captain of his calibre not to be able to sense my chakra signature outside after all. But such was his kindness that though he could have just opened the door, and by doing so, forced me to come in, he had let me make the decision instead.

"Come in," he said.

* * *

The window in his living room was open, sending a cool breeze through the apartment. It was clean, neat; I recognised a woman's touch in the patterned curtains and hand embroidered cushions scattered across his battered couch. Naruto ushered me in, shutting the door behind him and gesturing for me to take a seat before heading towards the kitchen. 

"I'll get you a drink." he said.

"Water will do, thanks." I called, settling myself on his couch and pulling one of his cushions onto my lap. It was of blue silk, the exact shade of Naruto's eyes. I saw Hinata's deft hand in the intricate gold and white interweaving flowers expertly stitched around the border. It made me smile to see such an incongruous item in his house. Most ANBU's living areas – for some reason – remained just that. A place to live and nothing more. Bare, serviceable, but without the personal touches that let you call it 'home'. I was glad his wasn't like that. Most ANBU didn't have relationships either, or if they did, they were usually brief and transient. When you faced certain death almost every day, you tend to live only in the moment.

Naruto broke me out of my musings when he returned with a full flask of sake instead of the water I'd requested.

"I think we'll need something more fortifying tonight," he explained, pouring two cups and handing one to me, before taking his own seat in the chair facing mine.

The sake was of the highest quality, spoils of war that the Hokage had commandeered from the Rice Field Country. Colourless and crystal clear, the fumes that wafted from it were sweet and made my eyes water. It hit my stomach like a ball of fire, spreading warmth throughout the rest of my body.

"I don't think it's meant to be drunk like that, Sakura," said Naruto, amused, even as he swallowed his in one gulp.

"What is this," I croaked, "Tsunade's private stock?"

He grinned. "Payment for services rendered, though the old woman gave it up grudgingly enough." he said in a cheerful tone, but his eyes were bleak. I wondered darkly what he'd had to do to earn it. After all, killing evil men was its own reward. It wasn't uncommon for ANBU to be rewarded with something extra when the mission contained certain…undesirable elements. It was usually something that could compensate for whatever peace of mind you lost. In other words, it helped you sleep better at night.

"So," he begun, and stopped, turning the porcelain cup around and around in his hands. The awkwardness that had been between us was suddenly laced through with tension. The warm alcoholic haze the sake had given me receded, leaving me feeling chilly.

There had been something fragile between us, something breakable, ever since the day he'd stepped into my tent, battered and bloody, and I'd seen the broken edges of his promise to me reflected in his eyes.

"Where would you like me to begin?" he said finally.

My own hands were tight about the empty cup. I took a deep breath. "Tell me how he died."

* * *

_The scouts reported that they'd found some sort of bunker, five miles north of the Sound village where the actual war was taking place. There had been no sign of Sas – Orochimaru so far, though Kabuto had been seen giving orders in the thick of the fighting. They returned after finding the entrance; their orders didn't call for them to explore the building, so the Hokage gave the mission over to me, and I withdrew my team from battle and travelled there._

_It was a grey, windowless structure, large enough for twenty men to live in, though the nin-dogs informed us that few had been there recently and there were tracks leading away. Instead, they said that the air was redolent with a different scent. Something dry and musty. Pakkun summed it up in one word._

_Snake, he said, and the dogs wouldn't go any further._

_We cleared the building, room by room, finding nothing more than signs that three, perhaps four people had lived there awhile ago, just like the dogs had said. There was no one, the place seemed deserted, until one of my team stumbled upon a secret entrance hidden to seem like a blank section of wall by genjutsu, strong enough that he almost missed it. _

_Yes, it was Neji who found it, using his Byakugen._

_"Whoever put up this genjutsu was good," he said. "They anticipated that we'd have someone who'd be able to see through illusions and built it in layers. I'd see through the first one and immediately come up against the second, identical one, and so think that it was real. Good thing that Hyuugas are trained for such possibilities and taught to spot the anomalies."_

_He dispelled the illusion, and he and I went down the steps we found, our way lit by the succession of lit torches in sconces by the walls. The steps brought us to a series of large, connected caverns, hewn from earth and rock. Some of the caverns were clearly storage areas, littered with boxes of supplies, while others were clearly intended as holding pens of some sort, going by the metal bars and in some, manacles. _

_Neji was the one who detected the boy first, in one of the storage chambers, sensing his chakra from where he was hiding behind some of the boxes. We knew who he was the minute we saw him. There were rope burns around his wrists, indicating that he had been tied up, though there was no sign of the rope itself. He wouldn't speak to Neji at all, and refused to leave with him. But he would answer me._

_"Father said I was to wait for you." he said._

_I didn't know what to say to that, so I asked, "Where's your father now?"_

_He pointed down one of the tunnels we hadn't gone yet. "He's waiting for you."_

_I tried to get him to leave with Neji again, but he insisted on waiting where he was for me. I couldn't bring him ahead with us and I couldn't let him stay there alone so I was forced to leave Neji with him. He wasn't too happy about that. Neji wasn't, I meant._

_It was as if it was meant to be this way all along. Just him and me, at the very end, the way we'd always wanted. Only it wasn't really him anymore, was it?_

_He was waiting for me, like the boy had said, bandaged arms hanging by his side. Sharingan eyes glowed at me from the shadows where torchlight failed to penetrate and his smirk was the same one that used to drive me crazy. Sharper than before, perhaps. More cruel. It cut, Sakura. Worse than anything else could have, because it was the cruelty I saw that told me Sasuke was no longer inside. I was too late to save him, too late to fulfil the promise I'd made to you eight years before._

_His smirk widened on seeing my pain, until it stretched across his face like a snake's fixed grin. "I've been expecting you, Naruto-kun."_

_It was Sasuke's face; his eyes, his voice. But the soul in that body was Orochimaru's._

_His hands came together then, to my shock, performing a quick sequence of seals. Until then, I hadn't stopped to wonder _who_ had tied the boy up. We'd run into no one else, and it hadn't occurred to me that Orochimaru might have managed to regain the use of his arms. It didn't seem possible._

_The blue lightning of chidori filled the room with its cold light, the chittering like thousands of birds proclaiming imminent death. I barely managed to avoid the first thrust, he was that fast, and the chidori cut harmlessly into the rock wall, blasting a crater._

_I was not so lucky the second time. Shock had made me slow, and I'd expected him to need time to prepare his next strike, but the chidori was ready again in an instant. He was much, much stronger than when we were boys. I turned in time to see it coming, twisting my body at the last instant so that it took me in the shoulder instead of through the heart, which was what he'd been aiming for._

_He'd anticipated me trying to dodge the blow completely; I knew from experience that the sharingan would have been able to catch such an unsubtle movement, so I took the hit. I felt his arm go in, right to the elbow, and for a moment, his face was right in front of mine, wide with surprise. Then the pain struck me and he wrenched his arm away. I almost blacked out from the agony, which would have been the end of me, then and there, if it wasn't for Kyuubi. We'd melded more completely over the years, not to the extent he'd like, but enough that he could use his chakra to block my pain receptors and begin the healing process. The one good thing about chakra-induced wounds is the lack of bleeding, so I had no fear of that._

_Rage took me then, as it always did, but I'd trained not to lose myself in it like I used to, and I drew on it to give me the speed I needed._

_Orochimaru could have killed me already, but after he'd pulled his arm out of me, he'd thrown himself backward, and seemed to be fighting something unseen. His hands clawed at his hair and he was saying, over and over, "No, not yet you bastard, not yet."_

_I didn't understand what it meant at the time, only that it was an opportunity. My rasengan was already prepared by the time he snapped out of whatever was bothering him. His chidori came to his hand again, and we charged each other._

_It was just like before. Rasengan against chidori. Just the pure energies we called to our hands, nothing else, to see who was stronger, who had more power. Orochimaru could have destroyed me with some other powerful jutsu that I couldn't hope to match, but for some reason he didn't. Maybe he'd had access to Sasuke's memories and thought it would be ironic. Who knows?_

_We bore down on each other, the impending collision unstoppable when he faltered. The mad grin that had been on his face twisted into a pained grimace. When it cleared, his face was calm and his eyes, his eyes no longer shone with the blood lust of the sharingan. It was Sasuke. There was no doubt about it._

Naruto broke off, taking in a few shaky breaths. I didn't say anything. I knew what was coming next. He grabbed the flask of sake by its neck and took several long swallows from it before continuing.

_I was too close, too much momentum behind me to stop. His chidori had faded from his fingers before I reached him, so that he was unarmed. The best I could do was lower my arm at the last instant so that my rasengan took him through the stomach instead. He smiled at me before he was blown backwards into the air, smashing into the far wall of the cavern, where he crumpled to the ground, motionless._

_He was still alive when I got to him, though that was quickly passing. There was no chance I could heal him, I didn't know how, and no time to bring someone who could. All I could do was be there, see him off to the next world._

_"Dobe," he whispered. "You finally beat me."_

_I told him to shut up and stop wasting his energy and what the hell did he mean by finally?_

_He laughed at that, nothing more than thin wheezings of air, but for a moment, it was as if we were back to being boys and nothing more was between us but petty rivalry again. It caused him to cough up blood, and I realised that I must have hit a lung. _

_"Have you met…my son?"_

_"He's a fine boy, though I hope he doesn't grow up to be like his father." I didn't mean that, of course. I think he knew it too._

_"Tell Sakura…"_

_"What, that you loved her but you were too stupid a bastard to ever tell her?"_

_He smiled. "That too." _(Here, my heart gave a painful squeeze) _He coughed again, but it didn't stop him from trying to finish what he'd started to say. "Tell her…Itachi knows. What she wants…ask Itachi." _

_I was crying then, though I didn't know it. His grip on my hand was getting weaker. My best friend was dying and I couldn't care less what his brother, whom he'd killed years ago, had to tell you. He must have seen this in my face because his grip tightened one last time._

_"Remember," he insisted. "Promise."_

_He was gone before I could. I made the promise anyway and now I've kept it._

He finished the narrative, and brought haunted eyes up to look at me then.

"He let me kill him, Sakura." he whispered hoarsely. "He let me kill him and I did it. Oh _God_," His face crumpled in the bewilderment of his own betrayal, and he looked like a lost little boy. For the first time since I'd arrived, I studied him more thoroughly and with a practiced medical eye. There were dark shadows both in his eyes and under them, and his face was drawn, thinner than it should be. I doubted he'd slept, or eaten much since Sasuke's death, and felt ashamed at my own selfishness.

He'd needed to do this, needed _me_, and all I'd done was run away. The one person he could talk to who would understand the magnitude of what he'd had to do had turned away from him. I thought I'd gotten rid of that Sakura long ago. The weak, snivelling coward who never shouldered enough of her responsibility.

Naruto slid off his chair, landing on his knees before me. His shoulders were shaking, and I realised with a jolt that he was crying silently. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

"I'm sorry, Sakura." he gasped. "I killed him and I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise. _Forgive me._"

How could I not? Faced with his suffering, I now saw what he'd had to go through, and here he was begging _my_ forgiveness? I was an undeserving bitch, unworthy of it, of _him_.

His pain called to mine, ruthlessly suppressed until now, causing tears to start up my eyes. I blinked them back. Not now. I had to be strong for him now because I wasn't before. I didn't deserve to find solace in tears.

I got off the couch, to kneel on the floor facing him and took him into my arms.

"If there's any forgiving to be done," I said fiercely, "It should be by you, not me."

We knelt like that for some time, Naruto sobbing incoherently into my shoulder as I held him, trying to ignore the hot wetness growing on the cloth there.

Then, "_He was my best friend."_

My heart wrenched at that plaintive cry. "I know," I soothed, stroking his back in circles. "I know." I held him until the storm subsided, until he'd grieved himself to exhaustion. But not once did I give in to my own tears.

* * *

By the time I left Naruto's place it was late, and the streets were dark and quiet, with only the glow of intermittent lamps to light my way home. 

During the war, there had been a curfew in effect. No civilians or ninjas of genin status were allowed out after dark unless by express permission from the Hokage herself. Now that the war was over, the curfew had been lifted, but nobody was out celebrating. We had lost too much to seem like we'd won, I supposed.

I'd put Naruto to bed, touching him with chakra to ensure that he'd sleep well and dreamlessly for the night. More than that, I couldn't heal, except by remaining his friend. Hinata, I suspected, would be a great boon to come in the future. Perhaps she could reach, with her unconditional love, the wounds I could not. I'd noticed something disturbing as I half-carried, half-dragged him into his room. There were no mirrors in his house, not even in his bathroom, where there was only an empty frame, and I recalled what he'd told me the day I'd rejected his touch.

_I don't think I can even stand to look at myself._

I'd done this, by seeing him as the man who'd killed Sasuke instead of a friend who'd had to do something very, very difficult. Something that could have destroyed him. I only hoped the damage could be undone.

My mind was crowded to bursting with thoughts. I'd thought that I could have some answers, but instead all I'd gotten was more questions. Naruto had been in no condition to tell me what I wanted to know, and judging from his account, he probably had no idea either. What I did gain this evening was the name of someone who did. Sasuke had known that I'd be the one searching for the truth, the one with the questions, and he'd told Naruto.

_Itachi knows._

The only one who could give me the answers was at that moment tucked into my guest bed, sleeping soundly. I was tempted to scream my frustration, but did not. My answers would have to wait yet another day.

It was a sign of how preoccupied I was that I didn't notice there was somebody walking nearby until it was too late.

"Yo," drawled a familiar voice behind me. I turned to find Shikamaru, posture more slouched than usual perhaps, but still as expressionless as ever. If I hadn't seen him crying this afternoon, I'd have almost thought he wasn't affected by everything. But I knew better than that, just as I also knew the bulges in his vest pockets were likely to be his clenched fists.

"How's Ino?" I said.

"Not so good. She's taken Cho – she's taken it pretty hard."

"Like you haven't?"

He took in a breath, letting it out again slowly. "I've been preparing for this eventuality ever since the time he almost died." He fell silent. "It wasn't enough."

I didn't tell him I was sorry, because I wasn't the one who'd killed Chouji, and he wouldn't have appreciated such platitudes anyway. We were both too far gone for that. Instead, I reached out to give him a hug. Surprise tensed his lanky frame for a moment, before his arms crept around me hesitantly, and we stood like that for a while, drawing comfort from each other.

"How's the boy?" he said when we pulled apart. He was the third one to ask me today.

"Sleeping. He had a long day at the hospital."

"We've all had a long day." said Shikamaru. "Eaten yet? I didn't see you at the restaurant the rest of us went to."

"Nah. Itachi and I had dinner at a sushi bar on the way home." He'd already heard what the child was called, evidently, because he didn't flinch at the name. But then again, Shikamaru was good at being unflinching.

"Speaking of bars," he said. "I saw Kakashi go into one, just round the corner from here."

"What, alone?"

Shikamaru's mouth twisted in amusement. "He's a big boy, you know? He can take care of himself."

"Yeah?" I said. "Then why'd you tell me where he went then?"

He shrugged. "He looked like he needed company."

"Wouldn't Asuma be a better choice then?"

He narrowed red-rimmed eyes in annoyance not directed towards me. "Let me rephrase that. He looked like he needed _sensible_ company."

It occurred to me to wonder why he was walking here at this time of night. Ino's house was on the other side of town, as was his. Asuma's, on the other hand…

I considered his words. It must be bad if Shikamaru was willing to stick his nose in. "Thanks for the tip, Shika." He raised a half-hearted hand in response as I hurried away.

* * *

I found my ex-sensei in the local bar, well on his way to leaving sobriety behind. He didn't even notice when I took the stool next to him, a grievous slip for one usually so sharp and watchful. I observed him for a while, never having seen him drink – or at least not to such excess – before. His one visible eye was bleary and bloodshot as he methodically downed shot after shot through his mask. 

Ordering my own drink from the bartender, I caught his attention.

"Whas' a nice girl like you doing inna place like this?" he slurred, waving an empty shot glass around for emphasis.

"Making sure her ex-sensei isn't too sloshed to find his way home, obviously. Where's Asuma?" Or Genma, or even Gai, for that matter. Kakashi wasn't fit to be left on his own.

"He left." Kakashi said flatly, his words suddenly precise once again. "Everyone leaves." Why did I get the feeling he wasn't talking about errant drinking buddies anymore, but of something else I wasn't meant to hear?

"I'm still here," I told him mildly.

He chuckled bitterly. "Thas' cause you only jus' came." he said, lapsing back into his drunken slur again.

It was useless trying to stop him from drinking. I of all people, knew just how stubborn he could be once he'd put his mind to something, and tonight, he'd put his mind to drinking himself witless. The only recourse was to wait until he passed out, or…

He caught my wrist with one hand, held it in such a position that my chakra-laden fingers couldn't touch him. Maybe he wasn't as drunk as he seemed after all, or else old reflexes died hard.

"You're not, you're not cheatin' me o-"

Kakashi slumped to the table, unconscious. He only had two hands, and the other was holding on to his shot glass. On the other hand (no pun intended), I'd trained to become proficient in controlling chakra with _both_ hands.

Tossing enough money to cover his bill onto the bar-top, I heaved him off the stool and started to drag his sorry ass home without waiting for the change.

Kakashi was going to owe me. A lot.

He was a deadweight by the time I reached my house, propping him up against the wall so I could unlock the door. There was no fear of my parents wondering about him; they'd been victims of the war, two years back.

To my amazement, he began to stir as I laid him out on the couch, trying to make as little noise as possibly so I wouldn't rouse Itachi. The man had the constitution of an ox. Not many woke again soon after I'd put them under. But wake he did, though for him, it seemed as though it was more from one alcohol-induced dream to another.

He grasped my wrist as I straightened up after taking off his sandals, pulling me suddenly, with a surprising speed and strength of someone in his condition, so that I landed right onto him. Disoriented from this turn of events, I was left staring into one heavy-lidded grey eye. There was a moment where I knew just what was going to happen; only it was so brief that I could do nothing to prevent it. (Later, I wondered if I'd even wanted to.)

Then he kissed me, this man who'd been my teacher for just over a year but a friend for all the eight that I'd known him. I could feel the dampness of his mask, taste the hard alcohol he'd imbibed, and it should have been clumsy and awkward and disgusting, but it wasn't. Instead, his mouth was hot on mine; I could feel the heat radiating from him through all those layers of clothes, whether from his natural body heat or from all the tequila he'd downed.

I pulled away first, knowing full well that if I'd drunk just a little more of Naruto's sake, that things might have gone far out of hand. As it was, it was a close thing. I was hardly an innocent. After Sasuke had left, I'd been disillusioned by love, and there had been a period of time when I had taken it wherever I could.

He murmured a protest when I disengaged myself from his grip and that murmur was "Rin," My body went cold.

For the second time that night, I put another man to sleep, this time releasing enough chakra to be certain he wouldn't awake until morning.

Then shaken, and more than just a little aroused, I went to bed.

* * *

They say that fresh air is good for clearing one's head, but they never took into account the after effects of Misukane's Finest Rice Wine: One drop could fell an elephant! (Or so it was advertised on the label) And I'd had considerably more than a drop. But the cold early morning air that blew into my room when I stumbled to open the window did help, I supposed. As much as a slap to the face and just as unpleasant. 

Lucky for me, one of the things I'd picked up as a medical nin was how to make a hangover cure. I prepared two. If the number of shot glasses on his table last night were any indication, Kakashi would need one too.

Itachi wasn't up yet, I'd peeked into his room on my way downstairs, but Kakashi came into the kitchen not long after I did. Taking one look at him – the rumpled hair, grey skin and lines around his eye – I wordlessly handed him the glass containing the hangover cure. He nodded his thanks, aborted the motion with a wince, then drank it down in one, long swallow.

"Most of these cures taste like shit," he said, after a moment.

"Good thing for you I know the one that doesn't."

He'd taken off the jounin vest some time during the night. The long-sleeved dark shirt he wore underneath was thin, showing the definition of fine muscles under it, from chest to navel. I caught myself wondering what he would look like, without the shirt on, and remembered, with sudden intensity, what had happened the previous night.

Some emotion must have crossed my face, for he frowned in concern, reaching out a hand to touch me. "Sakura?"

I stepped back hurriedly, before his fingers could brush my shoulder, unsure of what would happen if they did, and he froze, hand poised in mid-air for a moment before he let it drop. We stared at each other then, and some vague memory of last night must have come to light in his mind.

"I tried something last night, didn't I?" he guessed, and I could hear the self-loathing in his voice. "I'm sorry," he said brusquely when I was slow to answer. Replacing the glass he still held onto the counter, he strode to the backdoor. "I should leave."

"You were drunk," I blurted out, because I didn't want him to leave, not like this, and not feeling worse about himself than he already did. "It's not your fault."

He turned slowly, still unable to look directly at me. "What did I do?"

"You kissed me," I said simply and he nodded. Unable to see the shame darkening his face any longer, I told him what I really felt. "I liked it very much, actually."

Startled, his eye rose to meet mine. Then he smiled a little, the cloth over his mouth creasing and dimpling.

"One question though. Who's Rin?"

The smile faded. Pain clouded his grey eye like a cataract and I wished I hadn't asked.

"She was a team mate of mine." he answered softly. _Was._ There were so many things I wanted to know, like had he loved her? But out of respect, and the new, tenuous thing that seemed to be growing between the two of us, I didn't.

His gaze shifted, to something just over my left shoulder.

"Is that the boy?" he said hoarsely, something strained in his voice.

Itachi padded quietly to my side, slipping one small hand into mine and hugging my leg with the other.

"Who's the old man?" he said in a distrustful whisper that carried across the room. I bit back a smile, glancing at Kakashi to see how he took to being called old. He was too taken aback by the boy to be outraged.

"He's your father's sensei." Kakashi tensed at this mention of Sasuke. "You can trust him. Say good morning to Kakashi-san."

"Good morning Kakashi-san," Itachi repeated dutifully, then in an aside to me, "Why is his face covered? Is it to cover up his wrinkles?"

I couldn't speak for trying not to laugh, but by then, Kakashi had recovered enough to say, indignantly, "I'm not _that_ old."

"But you've got grey hair!"

"That's not an indication of age! Now Jiraiya-sama on the other hand…"

It struck me then.

_I don't like the old man_, Itachi had told me. _The old man took me away._

"Itachi," I said hurriedly, breaking into their animated conversation, "I need you to stay with Kakashi-san, alright?" He nodded solemnly.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "Wh-"

"Take care of him for me." I interrupted before he could ask me any questions. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

There was no time to explain. I knew exactly who the old man was, cursing that I hadn't seen it before. What I didn't know was if he was still alive. Running down the deserted streets towards the main buildings near the Hokage's offices, I prayed that he still was.

* * *

To be continued

A/N: Well, that's it for this chapter, and it's twice as long as the first, with as much aggravation! Can you guys guess who's the old man? I think it's pretty obvious!Apologies for the long wait, I will be updating every two weeks if possible, sooner if I can! Please direct all questions and feedback in your reviews. I'd love to hear what you guys think about it!

To all who've reviewed the first chapter, THANK YOU! Your comments were lovely! **sasuke9999**, I'm afraid there will be no resurrection of your namesake,this story is about how they deal with the aftermath of loss after all. Sorry if that disappoints!

To** Tsuki no Akakage,** yes, as you can see from this chapter, pairings are developing, since Kakashi just took matters into his own hands. That kiss was not meant to happen! But they may not stay that way, because there is more to come! **Keltosh,** I hope you do read the other chapters when I post and enjoy them too!** Alamandorious**, for calling me excellent, I give you a hug!

Once again, thanks to all of you!


	3. The Prejudice of Neighbours

The Last Uchiha

by undercoverchad

Warnings: Disturbing content and strong language ahead.

* * *

Chapter Three: The Prejudice of Neighbours

* * *

_The Monster War was named so, for the strongest ninjas of the Sound bore curse seals that had the power to transform them at will, into inhuman creatures, powerful and brutal in battle. The curse seal has three levels once activated. At the first, a ninja's base power is tripled. At the second, the human body is corroded by the power produced into a new form. Upon breaching the third level, the soul is bound to the one who gave the curse seal. Such was Orochimaru's power over his people._

_Excerpt from History of the Fire Lands (5th Edition)_

* * *

The Hokage's offices were in the main administration buildings in the central part of town; better for the communication of orders, like the Queen Bee (this was apt, for Tsunade) at the centre of the hive. It was not there that I was headed; this early in the morning, there'd be at most only a skeleton crew at work, and Tsunade-sama was not known to be a morning person. Besides, Hokage or not, she only had the barest jurisdiction over the place I was going.

There were jail cells at the police station, but those were mainly for civilian criminals, not designed to hold the sort of prisoners kept in the tidy, well-kept building just next to administration. No guard was at the entrance as I approached, but I knew I was being watched. Sure enough, as I stepped into the shaded foyer, a gloved hand descended upon my shoulder. Only my skills at chakra detection helped me to remain calm.

"You're not authorised to be here, Haruno-san," said a voice that, for all it sounded cool and impersonal, held heavy undertones of menace. It was no surprise to me that they knew who I was. In fact, they probably knew what shoe size I wore (seven) down to my favourite colour (no, it isn't pink).

After all, I'd just walked into Morino Ibiki's personal lair.

If the village was the hive, then here were its deepest, innermost passages. The ones that never saw the light of day. Those under what was broadly and more comfortably termed as 'Intelligence', were a select bunch who shared the same traits; reclusive, secretive, and fiercely territorial. The first was probably a consequence of the job, the second was a requirement, and the third was the major factor denying me access.

I turned to the one holding on to my shoulder. Most offices had security guards, or receptionists. Special Intelligence had a shadowed lobby with assassins who knew your every weakness and was prepared to exploit them. They would have sent _him_ of course. Chakra control was my strength and he could block it in an instant.

"Good morning Neji," I said. If he was displeased at my casual use of his name, it didn't show on his face.

"Sakura-san," he replied, his one concession to informality. "May I know what you're doing here?"

It had surprised everyone but Naruto (and most likely, Hinata) when Neji had joined the interrogation squad. ANBU, yes. The Hyuuga prodigy was a killing machine all on his own. Since Intelligence was a division of ANBU, he was still sent on assassinations when the need called for it, but nobody could understand why he was wasting his skills torturing people.

Naruto had explained it to me.

"With his Byakugen, he can detect a lie more easily than anyone else. The Hyuugas are trained for it. Also, his intimate knowledge of how your body works comes in…very handy." For what, he hadn't needed to tell me. I could guess on my own. "It helps that he's a cold blooded bastard to begin with," he'd added with a wry grin. "Trust me, old Scar-head knew what he was doing when he picked that one."

"I understand that you have Sound prisoners in the cells," I said to Neji. His face remained impassive. "I'd like to speak to one of them, if he's still alive."

"No," he said abruptly. His grip tightened on my shoulder as he began to forcefully steer me around.

I didn't want this to degenerate into a fight, but I was prepared for one if he refused to hear me out. I tried again.

"Look, you don't even know who it is I want to talk to! All I'm ask-"

A deep chuckle stopped me mid-sentence. "Oh, I assure you Sakura-san, that Neji knows exactly who you want to speak to." Ibiki had appeared out of nowhere, with his usual trademark way of keeping people off-balance. He smiled at me now, the motion making the scars that bisected his face stand out more starkly. "There is after all, only one prisoner left. And he's the most dangerous one."

"Is it…Kabuto?" I should have realised it before this. The old man, indeed. I suppose it would seem so, from a child's point of view. Anyone with grey or white hair would be old to a child, and Itachi had thought Kakashi, who had silver-grey hair, was old.

The only one in Orochimaru's camp who had similar hair colouring was Kabuto, since I doubted Orochimaru found much use in geriatric nins.

Ibiki nodded. Then, as though coming to a decision, he said, "Release her, Neji. Maybe she can find out something we can't."

That Ibiki was allowing me in without a fight was nothing to rejoice about. It only meant that he had his own motives for doing so, and I suspected I would find out the price to be paid later. Owing Morino Ibiki favours was not a comfortable thing.

* * *

"You knew?" I asked Ibiki, as he led me down numerous tunnels and flights of stairs until all the walls and steps were carved bedrock. Fluorescent lights relieved the darkness at set intervals, casting strange shapes on the walls as we passed beneath them. I'd heard that those who worked here called this network of subterranean burrows 'the Bowels'. 'The Bowels of the Death God where only shit resides', was the exact – if crude – phrase. I doubted if anyone had ever dared to say that to Ibiki's face though.

Ibiki glanced at me. "About Sasuke?" I nodded. "We had our suspicions, of course, but they were only proven right before the war. They were very good at catching our spies," he added darkly.

"Then you have an agent who actually saw what was happening? Can I talk to him?"

"She's dead," Neji interjected harshly. Up until that moment, he'd been silent since Ibiki had arrived. Walking a pace behind us like some sort of honour guard, he'd radiated disapproval in palpable waves.

I was stunned by that piece of information. "_Tenten_ was the agent?" I'd known, of course, that she'd entered ANBU soon after Neji had, and the official story was that she'd been killed in battle, but that Intelligence had used her to go undercover? There was only one problem I could see in this. "But she took part in the same Chuunin exam as Kabuto. Wasn't she recognised?"

"Eventually," said Ibiki. "Tenten was the best candidate we had at the time. She had the kind of unremarkable features that, with a change in hair colour and style, could look completely different."

As Ibiki was saying this, Neji had shot the older man a look that could only be described as unfriendly. I was aware of issues broiling just beneath the surface, and thought I could guess at some of it. Tenten was never one to shirk her duty to the village, and she'd probably thought – as I did now – that she better served Konoha with her skills as a weapon mistress, not a spy. The only one who would have been able to convince her otherwise, would have been Neji.

I knew all about blame. A fleeting look at Neji told me that he certainly held Ibiki at least partly responsible for what had occurred, but I knew most of the blame he reserved for himself. All the useless if only's – if only I had or hadn't done this. I'd been through all that eight years ago.

We halted before a craved fresco in the stone. We'd passed a few of these on the way, and it took Ibiki turning to me expectantly to realise that they were doors.

"Cell Seventeen," he said. "You still have time to change your mind."

God knows I wanted to. I could only guess at what lay ahead and it sure as hell wasn't going to be enjoyable. Besides, there were no other options left. Where else was I going to find another Sound-nin (and Orochimaru's right hand, no less) to answer my questions? Not that I could be sure he would answer them, since it appeared that Intelligence hadn't gotten too far with him either. But I had to at least try.

Which brought me to the thing I needed to ask before I went in. "Ibiki-san," I said. "I need you to grant me complete bargaining rights." I felt Neji tense behind me, as if to protest. If Ibiki agreed, it meant that I could negotiate on more even footing with Kabuto; whatever was in my ability to give in exchange for his information.

Ibiki looked me over, assessing for weaknesses. "You'll have to apply to the highest authority for that," he answered coolly.

I met his eyes with a steady look. "You _are_ the highest authority here," I responded evenly. "I know very well that Hokage-sama gives you full autonomy to run Intelligence."

He almost smiled, and I felt like I had passed a test. That was the thing you had to keep in mind about Intelligence. They never lied outright. They only made you believe they told the truth. Misdirection was everything in their game and you had to have some foreknowledge to win.

"You can bargain with whatever is within your power to give," he said, beginning the long series of hand seals that would undo the first part of the lock. It was useless trying to memorise the sequence, since it was changed daily, and I was told that prisoners were led here blindfolded. Anyway, the second part of the lock required a physical key, which Ibiki, and possibly a few other high ranking agents carried. With all the guards that you couldn't see until it was too late, it was easier to break in to the Bowels than to break out, and the joke was that the Death God was particularly constipated here.

"Wait," said Neji, as Ibiki produced a small metal oblong from somewhere on his body. "I'll go in with her."

"I don't need an escort," I told him. Not that I wouldn't appreciate the support, but I felt that it would be harder to ask my questions with Neji as a silent listener at my back.

His pale eyes seemed to flicker in the light. "You have no idea what you will need in there." There was something resolute about his face that told me I would have his company whether I wanted it or not.

"If you two have come to an agreement?" inquired Ibiki.

"Aren't you coming in too?" If there was anyone I'd rather have in there with me, it'd be him.

He grinned, teeth flashing white, and I was momentarily reminded of an old wolf baring its fangs. "If by some chance Kabuto escapes and slaughters the both of you, I'll be out here to seal the doors."

"It gives me such comfort to know that," I told him sourly. He chuckled as he inserted one side of the oblong into a depression I couldn't see. I'd noticed when light glinted off it that it was carved on all sides with elaborate patterns. No doubt the patterns were different on all sides, and inserting it the wrong way would result in something disastrous.

"Word of advice," said Neji, as the door yawned open. "Don't let him get close enough to touch you." I understood. Kabuto was a medical nin like me, who could sever arteries with a touch. There'd be chakra-binding restraints, of course, but if he had the degree of control I did, then he could channel chakra to whatever part of the body he wanted. Neji probably blocked his tenketsu during interrogations, so that Kabuto couldn't access his chakra, but it didn't last for very long; your body would revert your tenketsus to its natural state in time, and there were medical ways of speeding up the process.

Perhaps having Neji with me was not such a bad thing after all.

* * *

The subterranean cells were all designed to hold single prisoners. In normal prisons, isolation cells were special units. Here, they were mandatory. I didn't know how far the tunnels stretched under Konoha, but they seemed to have the space for it. Enclosed by rock on all four sides with a door in one wall leading to the sealed exit, each cell was windowless and lightless. The combination of the dark and enforced isolation was highly effective in breaking down a prisoner's spirit. In some cases, torture wasn't even necessary.

Neji entered into the corridor before me, his keen eyes enabling him to utilise whatever meagre light was cast from the tunnel outside. I followed him in. The door to the cell was shut, but even outside of it, the air was rank with the smell of stale sweat and other, less pleasant, bodily fluids.

There was a switch beside the heavy wooden door, which Neji pressed, before pulling open the unsealed door and gesturing me in. So it was to be ladies first. I entered, not without trepidation, into the now brightly lit cell.

Kabuto sat on a wooden pallet, blinking at the sudden intrusion of light. His arms were chained behind him, from elbows to wrist at an angle that was meant to cause discomfort. It was not a casual cruelty, I knew, merely a tactic to add stress upon a prisoner. He was dressed in pants and a simple black undershirt – I was glad to see they had not taken his clothes away – which had sleeves short enough to reveal the raised, red welts of closed tenketsu on his bare arms.

Apart from various bruises and scratches, he was relatively bloodless. Ibiki could, after all, be likened to a master surgeon, not a butcher.

His glasses had been broken, most probably while it was still on his face, judging from the cuts around his eyes. It didn't seem to make any difference; in the light, his eyes sought mine and latched on like some malignant parasite.

"Well, well," he murmured, "What a sight for sore eyes you are, _Sakura-chan_." Then he giggled.

It hadn't occurred to me that he might be crazy, until I heard the giggle. There was something…unhinged about it. A wrongness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Was this a result of torture? Or was the desperate insanity that shone through his eyes the cause of Ibiki allowing me in here? I was quite certain that whatever questions I had were the same as those of Intelligence. Perhaps I should have thought to ask for a report on whatever information Tenten had relayed and whatever they had gleaned from Sound prisoners through interrogations, but they were probably classified.

The cell was spacious, though the inmate only occupied a quarter of it, and I approached Kabuto, stepping closer until a hand on my arm halted me when I was barely halfway. It was only then that I noticed the running chain connecting from Kabuto's manacled ankle to the wall, and cursed myself for my carelessness. Neji had probably stopped me just at the limit of where the chain could reach, should Kabuto decide to lunge at me.

I decided to cut to the chase. "I'm here to make you an offer."

"Oh?" His eyes narrowed. "What does the little cherry blossom have that I might want?"

"You tell me."

Kabuto considered this for a moment. "You can't give me my freedom."

"There's more than one kind of freedom," I said. "Death is freedom of a sort." This was why I'd asked Ibiki for bargaining rights. If it was what Kabuto wanted, then I was prepared to kill him. I wouldn't risk bringing a weapon near him, of course, but all I needed was to lay a palm across his chest to stop his heart. As Tsunade had once told me, it was always easier to destroy than to heal.

He laughed in genuine amusement. "Nice try. But my execution is tomorrow morning, so you can't offer me that either."

I hadn't known that, and it was another sign of how little I actually knew.

"So what do you want?"

"And what if I said I wanted to pluck a cherry blossom?" he leered. "I've been here a long time, sweet Sakura. I've gotten lonely. Perhaps I'd like to taste a woman once before I die."

I had been prepared for that too.

"Fine," I replied, more calmly than I actually felt. "But a taste is all you'll get."

"Sakura-" Neji's hand clamped onto my elbow. Kabuto's gaze switched to him.

"I've heard from those who sampled it that Tenten begged very sweetly."

Neji's hand tightened around my arm until I knew I'd have bruises the next day. "Don't listen to him," I said. "He's only bluffing to make you mad." And it was working, I could tell. Aloof and unemotional about most things, Neji was not rational when it came to anything Tenten. Especially after her death.

But I underestimated him.

The grip on my arm loosened, then fell away completely, as Neji let out a disparaging _feh_.

"I don't get angry that easily," he said. "Especially for scum like this."

I took a half-step forward. "Questions first, then in payment for your answers, I'll give you a kiss."

"So eager," he chuckled. "But the bargaining is not over yet. One kiss is hardly enough for all that you want to know."

"You're not in any position to negotiate, Yakushi," interrupted Neji.

"On the contrary, I am in the best of positions, since I have nothing to lose." Kabuto seemed to be enjoying himself. "So what will it be, Sakura-chan? I could be persuaded to tell you all I know, if you're willing to give a little more."

"You're only ever going to get one kiss from me, you bastard, but in return you'll answer three questions."

"Such spirit. I like that in you," he said. "But one answer for one kiss is fairer, don't you think?"

In the end, we struck a balance at two questions, which meant that I had to choose very carefully what I wanted to ask. There was no way I'd allow him to touch me twice. I carefully ordered the thoughts in my mind. The foremost of what I wanted to know, was of course, "Why didn't Sasuke kill himself when he had the chance?"

"Oh?" Kabuto raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want to know how Sasuke survived the soul transfer?"

I did, but that was of no importance now and I said as much. The parties involved in the soul transfer were both dead. Maybe it had been a fluke, or maybe Sasuke's will was too strong. Suffice to say, there were two souls trapped in one body, which was how I'd figured Orochimaru had regained the use of his arms. Obviously, Sasuke's soul had made up for the portion of his that was missing.

"Kiss me first, and then I'll tell you."

There was not a chance in hell I'd do that, until he'd fulfilled his end of the bargain.

"_Answers_ first, Kabuto," I warned.

"I love the way you say my name," he murmured. "Sometimes, Orochimaru-sama would say it just like that. It was always Kabuto this, and Kabuto that. He said my name a hundred times in a hundred different ways, except when he was coming. Did you know that? Well of course he fucked me. He fucking _fucked_ me." Kabuto giggled. "Orochimaru was a goddamn faggot, and before Sasuke came he couldn't even use his arms so I had to do it. You could say I was a party to my own rape. And all the time I'd wait for the day when he would say Kabuto, give me your body. Not in that way of course. He already had it that way."

He paused, eyes glittering with malice. "Did you know, after Sasuke came, he didn't need me anymore?"

"Stop it," I said faintly.

He let out a laugh that scraped against the ears. "Didn't you want to know? All your questions, 'What, Kabuto? How, Kabuto?' Everyone asking me questions." His voice turned ugly. "Well you'll fucking listen to everything I have to say if you want your answers."

I kept my mouth shut, though I had to grit my teeth to do it.

"Very good," he said after awhile. "He still talks to me sometimes you know? I hear him, when there's no one else around. _Kabuto_, he says, _I want my body back_." He did such a fair imitation of Orochimaru's voice that goose bumps prickled on my skin.

I waited him out, much as I wished to snap at him to hurry up, and he tilted his head to one side to regard me from one grey eye that seemed to have the light of madness dancing in it. Finally, I was rewarded.

"I'd have thought you were bright enough to figure it out on your own," he said. "What do you think would have happened to little Itachi if Sasuke had died? Without Orochimaru's calming presence, the rest of us animals would have torn the boy to shreds."

I'd considered that possibility, that Itachi was used as a hostage for Sasuke's continued good behaviour. That meant that at the very least, Sasuke had cared for the child, right? I thought of Itachi's bright, cheerful face and wondered how anyone _couldn't_. I also wondered, a little sadly, if it meant that Sasuke himself had fathered the child, and with love. But even now, hearing it from Kabuto's lips, I still didn't think that was the only reason.

"I'm sure that's not all of it," I said.

"What more reason do you want?"

"I don't want reasons, I want the truth."

He sniggered at that. "You didn't seem to like me telling the truth just now."

"It wasn't what I asked for."

"No?" A sly look entered his eyes. "Maybe Sasuke didn't want to die because he liked being Orochimaru's fuck toy too much."

_Crack_. The slap echoed within the cell. Kabuto, without his arms to balance him, landed painfully on his shoulder.

"_Neji!_"

For one moment, I thought I'd been the one to react. Such was the sudden rage that had filled me at what he'd said, that I wouldn't have been surprised if my hand had snapped out on its own, but it had been Neji who'd backhanded him across the face.

"Let me remind you that this is an interrogation." He was gazing coldly down at Kabuto, but the words were meant for both of us. There was no reason why he'd intercede for that comment, and now I understood that he was asserting his authority, subtly reminding me not to get sidetracked.

Gathering my thoughts, I tried to decide what to ask next. There were so many things I wanted to know. What had Sasuke been like, all the little details of his life? Had he thought about us while he'd been gone? There was eight years, _eight years_ worth of questions that I wanted to ask.

I thought furiously, and settled in the end, for a question that would be useful to the living, instead of the dead. "Who is Itachi's mother?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" I nodded firmly, and his lips stretched wide into a grin. "_I don't know_."

I stared at him. "What? How could you not know? You were there!"

"I wasn't there for everything. You've just wasted your last question. Time to pay the piper."

I couldn't believe that I'd wasted such an opportunity, but there was nothing for it now, he'd played by the rules and I'd lost.

Crouching down resolutely before him, I lowered my lips to touch his hesitantly. They were cool, dry and a little cracked from lack of moisture, and I was about to pull away when he deepened it, abruptly thrusting a tongue between my teeth in an uncanny parody of rape. It was utterly foul; I doubted prisoners had the luxury of sanitation, and the taste of him reflected all that and more.

Then the bastard bit me.

I was already pulling away as his teeth met, catching in my bottom lip. Copper exploded on my tongue and I realised I was tasting blood. Kabuto was already away, thrown back against the stone wall by Neji's palm. Reluctantly, I willed away the chakra I had gathered to my fingertips, poised to strike. Pain, numbed by shock, began to blossom in my lower lip. A finger raised to it came back bloody.

Kabuto was smiling as he licked my blood from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "Very sweet," he said approvingly. "Since you've been so obliging, I'll leave you with a little something, no extra cost."

"What is it?" I spat on the ground, trying to rid myself of his taste. He had the nerve to say that, after biting me.

He smirked. "You can't keep the child," he said, the words striking ice deep into my heart, for I loved little Itachi already. "The bloody spheres will claim him."

What the hell he meant by that, he refused to explain, only giving a condescending snort when Neji coolly offered to beat it out of him. I knew it would be useless to torture him. It would be the last spiteful thing he could do before he died, and nothing would be able to make him talk.

"Get out," he told us dismissively, turning his face to the wall. "You've ceased to be entertaining."

I had to restrain Neji to prevent him from tearing Kabuto's throat out, then and there.

Exiting first, I watched through the grill in the door as Neji closed it and switched off the lights. Before absolute darkness claimed the cell again, I noticed that Kabuto's lips were moving, almost silently.

"_Yes, my lord,_" I heard him whisper to the shadows as we left. "_I'm still here._"

I shivered all the way out of the cell.

* * *

Ibiki was waiting for us when we emerged from the dark corridor gratefully into the light. Leaning against the far wall, he looked utterly bored and at ease, though I knew this was deceptive. I waited for him to ask questions, but he only nodded at Neji, before beckoning me to follow him down the twisting labyrinth of tunnels.

He led me along at a brisk pace – Neji having remained behind presumably to seal the door – before speaking. "Did you get what you came for?"

"More or less," I said, trying not to feel as if I'd been tainted by Kabuto's touch.

Ibiki grinned sardonically. "You surprise me, Sakura. I hadn't thought you had the stomach for interrogation. You do know that you'll have to fill in a detailed report before you go? Standard protocol."

I nodded. No wonder he hadn't asked, and I couldn't leave out anything either, with Neji as a witness. We came to a well-lit room containing a single table and chair, sheets of paper, and writing implements. There was a small pot, and a cup of something that steamed gently upon the table.

"I took the liberty of ordering some jasmine tea for you," said Ibiki. "I understand it's your favourite."

See what I meant? The self-satisfied omniscience of Intelligence agents was both unnerving and insufferable at once.

"You know," continued Ibiki, as he made sure I was comfortable. "If you ever get tired of working at the hospital, we could use someone with your mind here."

"Is that an offer?"

"A better one than most get," he told me. I'll say. I knew perfectly well if he ever needed my services, I'd find myself holding transfer orders stamped with the Hokage's seal. And prisoners didn't get a choice at all. Cooperate with Intelligence, or we'll do things to you that would make your worst nightmares pale in comparison. They probably said that in a pleasant tone too.

His mouth quirked to one side as he guessed something of what I was thinking. "We're not such ogres here, you know? And for what it's worth, I'll always give you a choice."

"I'll think about it," I said, and was alarmed to find myself seriously considering the idea. "But it's not fitting for an Intelligence agent to cut off a possible avenue like that."

He laughed.

"Ibiki-san," I said, causing him to pause in the doorway. "When you said you only found out about Sasuke before the war…" I trailed off, trying to find a way to put it into words that wouldn't sound accusatory. Ibiki must have seen this on my face because he took pity on me.

"Why do you think," he said very gently, "The Hokage sent Naruto to face him?"

The door closed soundlessly behind him, or maybe it was only because I was too lost in my own thoughts to hear it.

* * *

All in all, the time spent at Intelligence Headquarters did not take up more than two hours, though it felt like days by the time I surfaced from its shadowy depths into the welcoming sunshine. I had the afternoon shift at the hospital this week, so there was still time to take a long, scouring shower, as well as have breakfast with Itachi, and perhaps Kakashi as well. I was still at a loss as to what to do with him, now that he knew what had happened last night. It would be better for me to brush it off as an accident, to save awkwardness between friends. And yet, that was such a strangely unappealing notion.

Why on earth was I worrying about such things when I should be contemplating all that Kabuto had told me? Or at least trying to decipher that last, cryptic statement. _Mind before heart, Sakura_, I chided myself. I was so deep in thought on the way home that I ran right into someone blocking my path.

"Sakura-san!"

"I'm sorry, Izumo-san," I apologised. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Please excuse me."

He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "Actually, I was looking for you," he said. "Though I didn't expect you to walk straight into me."

I stared up at him curiously. "Looking for me?" I'd seen him around often at the administration buildings; he and Kotetsu were Tsunade's right hand men – in fetching and carrying, they liked to complain to anyone who would listen – but we'd never really had cause to talk to each other. Which only meant –

"Hokage-sama wishes to speak to you." His face grew unwontedly serious. "Right away."

My heart started to pound. "Did something happen? Is it Itachi?" I didn't realise I'd grasped Izumo by the vest until he tried to disengage my fingers gently.

"I don't know," he said. "I was only given the order just now, but I don't think it's – hey!"

I was already sprinting away. Intelligence and Administration were not that far apart after all.

"Sorry," I called, waving over my shoulder. "Thanks!"

As expected, Shizune was outside the office when I arrived, out of breath at my record breaking dash. She blinked when she saw me.

"That was quick. We only just sent Izumo off not long ago."

"I was in the area," I explained, once I'd regained my breath somewhat and smoothed back my windblown hair. "Is Tsunade-sama free to receive me now?" I had sensed the presence of two people in the office, but one had disappeared as I came up the stairs.

Shizune nodded. "You may go in."

Tsunade was seated at her desk leafing through one of her endless volumes of medical texts (much like the endless volumes of Icha Icha Paradise Kakashi seemed to own) when I opened the door.

She closed the book gently. "Take a seat, Sakura."

"Did something happen?" I said, heart hammering. Her face looked so serious that I feared the worst. Was this how mothers felt when away from their children? I was no mother, but in the short month that I'd had him, I was growing to love little Itachi like my own, didn't that count?

"It's about what you were requesting the other day."

I relaxed, but only somewhat. Almost a week ago, I'd asked Tsunade if I could enrol Itachi in the ninja academy for training. With any other child, this wouldn't have been a problem, but I foresaw that there would be certain consequences and decided to go to Tsunade for advice. Looking at her grave countenance now, I didn't think what I was about to hear was likely to be good news.

"You're about to tell me that I shouldn't enrol Itachi," I said, before she could say it.

She shook her head. "Not just that," she said. "But I expressly forbid you to."

This I hadn't expected. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying that as Hokage, I will not allow that child into the academy." Her face was hard, and I could tell that there would be no use protesting. But still, to have come to such a decision… Her eyes softened. "Please understand, Sakura. There will be a public outcry if I allow the son of the man who betrayed Konoha to become a ninja."

"The child has done nothing," I argued. "And he is of the Uchiha bloodline. Would you see such potential go to waste?"

"And look at what the previous generation has done to that once noble name. The Uchiha bloodline is feared and hated now. Have you forgotten what happened to Haku?"

Of course I hadn't. Haku's own father had tried to kill him when he'd found out about his inherited bloodline. Such children, born with their gifts, were tools of war. If Itachi trained to become a ninja, he would become just that, but there was another reason I wanted him there.

"He should be trained. Wouldn't he be more of a danger if he didn't know how to control his bloodline?"

"We still don't know if he's inherited the sharingan. What if training is the cause that pushes him to manifest it?" countered Tsunade.

"People hate him without reason." I pleaded. "If he trains as a ninja, he will at least know how to defend himself from those who would otherwise seek to bully him." All I wanted was for Itachi to have a chance, because I knew that there would be people who would want to hurt him, and I couldn't protect him forever.

Her clear eyes held mine for a long moment. "There are people," she said finally, "Who would object to that child training next to theirs in the academy. They would pull their children out of the school to prevent the chance of another Uchiha betraying their own. I cannot afford for that to happen. _Konoha_ cannot afford the loss of potential ninjas, not if we are to maintain our strength as one of the five powers."

The sacrifice of one for the good of the whole. That was a Hokage's role, to make such decisions, and I could tell that she hadn't wanted this choice. "They let Naruto train." I whispered, feeling defeat pulling at me.

"I'm sure you'll admit that an uncontrolled demon – sealed or not – is more dangerous than anything else the village has to face."

"Tsunade-sama…"

It was a Hokage who leaned back in her chair, face imperious and still. "I'm sorry." Her tone brooked no argument.

* * *

Tsunade had, surprisingly, given me the day off.

"The war's been over for some time now, so the urgent need for fully trained medics has fallen off," she said when I protested. "You haven't taken a sick day for almost a year, Sakura, and much as I admire my staff's dedication to their jobs, I don't want them to drop dead from stress and exhaustion."

"But -"

"Besides," Her lips twitched. "I'll be sure to dock your pay accordingly."

_Stingy_, grumbled Inner Sakura, who'd been rather subdued of late.

I reached home to find the house redolent with smells of breakfast; coffee, fried eggs, buttered toast, sausages… My stomach rumbled, reminding me that the only thing I'd had all morning was the hangover cure. I hadn't expected that Kakashi would cook, and I stepped into the kitchen to see Itachi happily chewing on a fried sausage that he'd rolled in a slice of bread.

"You were gone for _ages_!" accused Itachi through a mouthful of food. He began buttering another slice of bread, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration.

The man at the stove cracking eggs into a pan wasn't Kakashi.

"Naruto?" I said. "What are you doing here? More importantly, you know how to cook something other than cup ramen?"

"Very funny. I had to learn fast," he replied, flipping the eggs over. "Itachi was hungry and you don't seem to stock any ramen in the house." He grinned, half turning to look at me. "How do you like your eggs?"

I took the seat next to Itachi, ruffling his hair as I sat down. "Where's Kakashi?"

"Mission came up," said Naruto. "I came over just in time. By the way," he added casually, "What was he doing at your house so early?"

"Sleeping off about fifteen shots of tequila," I said, helping myself to the bread.

Naruto winced. "No wonder he'd looked half-dead."

"Why are you here, anyway?" I asked. "Don't you have work?"

"Don't _you_?"

"I've got the day off," I told him.

He smiled. "So do I. We could have a picnic lunch, how about that, Itachi?" The boy crowed with delight.

How coincidental that Tsunade had given me the day off on the same day as Naruto. She'd probably done it on purpose, I thought, and felt a rush of warmth towards her. It didn't make up for the conversation we'd last had, but this action took the sting out of her stern refusal. Who knew when I'd get to spend time with the two of them together again?

"All right," I said. "I'll start packing."

"Sausage?" offered little Itachi, beaming.

* * *

It was the sort of day you only dreamed of having for picnics. The sky was a bright blue, clear as the colour of Naruto's eyes when he was happy, and the weather was just right. Warm, without being too humid, with a lovely breeze to cool napes sweaty from running around and shrieking. (Naruto did most of the running; watching him trying to catch Itachi from the picnic mat, I shrieked with laughter, while Itachi did both.)

We weren't the only ones. The town's central park was dotted with the colourful mats of other picnicking families, but I noticed that no one came to join us, nor were any other children allowed to approach Itachi. I wondered what they thought when they looked at us. Did we seem like a family to them, dysfunctional or otherwise? Mother, father and child? Or were their eyes so clouded by prejudice that all they allowed themselves to see was a traitor's slut (some never forgot my infatuation with Sasuke), his get and a demon fox?

Watching them play, I was glad to see that Naruto looked far better than he had the previous night. The dark circles were still there, but the lines of grief and taut fragility to his face had eased.

Itachi ran about in his usual carefree manner. With Naruto to distract him, he didn't notice that the other children shunned away from them. I wondered how long it would be before he did, how long before neither of us could protect him from the little hurts that were yet to come. What Tsunade had said was only the beginning. I didn't know what he'd be if he couldn't train as a ninja.

I refused to let myself think about such things, to spoil the mood of the day when I'd been lucky enough to have the time to spend it with the two people I was closest to. Getting up from the mat, I joined in the fun.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we packed up, walking around the village to view the monuments that we never had time to visit, as well as do a little window shopping.

Somehow, our footsteps led us to the front of a store that I hadn't visited for a long time. I paused.

"I think I'll go in for awhile," I said to Naruto. Itachi of course, clamoured to go in too.

"I'll wait outside," he said, leaning back against the wall beside the window display.

"Why don't you come in with us?"

He gave me a reassuring smile that said more than words that he understood. "You'll be just fine without me, Sakura."

* * *

The little bell over the door tinkled cheerfully as I entered the Yamanaka store. As always, the lovely scent of flowers suffused the air inside, and I took in a deep breath, remembering all the times I'd come here, of Ino and I together, most usually quarrelling.

"My, my," drawled a sardonic voice into my musings. "Look who bothered to drag her sorry ass in here."

"Ne, ne, Aunt Sakura," said Itachi, tugging at my hand. "Can we get some ice-cream after this?"

"_Aunt_ Sakura, eh?" cackled Ino. "Looks like someone's getting on in years."

"Who's the oba-san, Aunt Sakura?" said Itachi in a whisper that reached the four corners of the store. Ino started spluttering, and I made a mental note to buy Itachi all the ice-cream he wanted.

"Cute kid you got there, Sakura." Ino glared down at him. "I can see where he's got his manners from."

"Must be genetics," I agreed blandly. "Sasuke was always honest." She turned the glare on me.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," she said casually. "Shik mentioned he saw you last night. So you brought the drunkard home, huh?"

"Yeah." I didn't see the need to tell her that it was back to _my_ home.

Ino dug a wrapped candy from the bowl on the counter. "Yo, kid," she said to Itachi. "You want a sweet?"

Itachi nodded eagerly. "Yes, please!"

"Then you'd better call me Ino-san, and none of this oba-san nonsense," she said threateningly, and tossed him the candy. He caught it easily, and I was not the only one to note the swift reflexes.

"Thank you, Ino-san!" Itachi beamed at her, face glowing, and I could see Ino visibly melting at the sight.

"Hmph," she said gruffly before turning to me. "And you? Have you come to actually buy something or do you just like the scenery?"

"I came to talk to you."

"Oh? About what?"

I smiled. "Nothing in particular."

The sentence annoyed her just like I thought it would. "Geez, Sakura, I'm trying to run a business here! I don't have all day to stand around and chat with people who have nothing better to do!" She ran the florist full-time now, after her father and Chouji had been killed in the war. Her mother, crippled with the loss of her husband, had never been the same. _I've had enough of people dying_, she'd said, before handing in her resignation.

"I don't see any other customers," I pointed out. It was the early evening, before people knocked off from work, and business was slow.

She glowered at me. "Then you could at least buy some flowers to put in your hair or something and cover up that ugly forehead of yours!"

_Ooh_. After all these years, it was still a sore point for me, but I'd come in here with the express purpose of picking an argument with her, so what could I expect? I'd missed her, missed this. I fell back to the basics.

"What do _you_ know, Ino-pig?"

Her expression changed abruptly, face falling. "I used to call him that, you know?" she said sadly. "For eating all the time."

No need to ask who the _him_ was. Ino had always ranted about being stuck with the lazy bum and the pig, but it had been affectionate ranting. _Nice going_, said Inner Sakura. _You came here to cheer her up and now look what you've done._

Ino turned away, but not before I saw the betraying glimmer of tears. We'd been almost-but-not best friends for all this time, but I stood there watching her pretending not to suffer and felt like the utmost heel.

"Don't be sad, Ino-san!" Unexpectedly, it was Itachi who came up, hugging Ino around the legs with his chubby arms and looking contrite. "I won't call you oba-san anymore, and you can have my candy."

Ino choked back a laugh. "Not like Sasuke after all, then," she murmured, softly enough that only I could hear her.

"Or maybe, what Sasuke might have been," I said, feeling that loss all too keenly. "So, how about that ice-cream, Itachi?" I was eager to change the subject, and Naruto had been waiting outside long enough. He came to me quickly enough, (after Ino had convinced him that he could keep his candy, she had plenty more, a bowlful, see?) slipping a small hand trustingly into mine.

"Wait," called Ino as we were leaving, rummaging with something behind the counter. She came up with a white hibiscus, a rare colour in such a flower. "Here."

"A gift? For me?"

"What do I look like, a charity? I just thought it would go with your hair, that's all, forehead-girl."

She was back to normal, and I hid a grin. "How much?" I said grudgingly. It really was lovely.

"We import it from a special hothouse, so you can't find it anywhere else." She batted innocent eyelashes. "It's quite expensive."

Damn woman, if she thought she could make me pay an exorbitant amount by jacking up the price…

"I'll expect to see you in here at least once a week," she said. "And you can bring the little cutie with you too."

Now it was my turn to blink away tears, touched by her gesture. Ino was never one for words. It was her subtle way of saying that she still cared, and that she accepted Itachi as well, no matter what other people said. I foresaw the flower shop being a sanctuary for the two of us in the weeks to come.

"If I'm free," I said noncommittally, because it was what she expected. The bell tinkled again and we were out.

"Had a good talk?" inquired Naruto, falling into step beside us.

I smiled. "Better than I expected."

"Aunt Sakura says we can have ice-cream!" cried Itachi excitedly, bouncing between us.

Naruto shot me an amused look from the corner of his eye. "Did she? It's best not to disobey her then," he said, to Itachi's joyful shout.

I was beginning to believe that males of all ages were pigs. After breakfast, we'd had a picnic lunch. Barely an hour after that, they'd had ice-cream (and tea cakes, _and_ cookies). I didn't need to worry about Itachi spoiling his appetite. Scarcely two hours later, he and Naruto were already planning what to have for dinner.

Stuffed to the gills, I sighed and listened to their chatter, wondering if I was going to burst at the seams by the end of the day.

"Itachi-kun, your Uncle Naruto is going to take you to a very special place for dinner."

God no, please tell me he didn't mean –

"Ichiraku's!" crowed Naruto, fist pumping the air in enthusiasm.

I almost fell face first onto the paving.

"Where's that?" said Itachi eagerly, skipping ahead with Naruto.

"It's my favourite place of all. Have you tried ramen yet?"

Itachi shook his head.

"You poor boy! Your Aunt Sakura shall not abuse you any further," vowed Naruto. "She shall treat us to ramen tonight!"

The hell I was. I ran to catch up.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, with Naruto treating us in the end, because Itachi and I didn't eat half as much as he did, and ANBU earned more than regular nins anyway, so I'd be damned if I paid for Naruto's gluttony.

We took the longer route back to my house, Itachi skipping between us, enjoying the scenery, as well as each others' company. It was rare that we got to spend time together, what with our schedules, and we both knew that reality would intrude too soon into this peaceful moment.

Then I spotted a familiar figure far ahead taking a turn off the main street onto a beaten path. So did Naruto.

"Here," I tossed Naruto my house keys. "I'll be right behind you guys, there's someone I need to speak to for awhile first."

* * *

The forested area that used to be the hangout for Team Eleven (I could never bring myself to call it Team Gai) was much the worse for wear. Craters dotted the landscape, while trees and broken bits of shrubbery littered the ground. It was not the work of a single day; he must have been coming here to work off his grief for more than a week now, to judge by the damage. Even as I watched, another tree exploded as he slammed a palm into its trunk.

"That's called ecological vandalism, you know," I called.

Neji paused in his single-minded destruction of Konoha's forest.

"What do you want?" It was said flatly, with no intonation at all. If I'd thought him unfriendly this morning, he was even more unapproachable now.

"I came to thank you," I said. "For this morning. You didn't have to help me."

"Consider it my duty."

"Look, about tod -"

He cut me off. "If you have nothing more significant to discuss?"

I gave up. Some people, you just couldn't get through to, and talking to Neji was like banging your head against a brick wall. Naruto had managed to reach him before, mainly because he was persistent, and more importantly, possessed a very hard skull. If he wanted to pretend that this morning hadn't happened, I was happy to oblige.

"We killed her," said a low voice behind me, as I turned to leave. Neji hadn't moved from where he stood, his back still facing towards me.

I stopped. "You can't know that," I told him.

He threw back his head at that and laughed silently. His shoulders shook with it, before he finally stopped, gasping for breath, one hand braced against the bole of a tree.

"Did you know," he said, and I was suddenly reminded of Kabuto in his dark cell, telling me things I didn't want to hear. His voice had the same, slightly hysteric quality. "That I almost didn't recognise her when I found her? Ibiki spoke the truth. She was good at everything she did, became so good at disguising herself, that even _our own side_ couldn't recognise her."

I felt the blood drain out of my face. He couldn't mean…

"So you see," he laughed again, but it was closer to a sob, "We did kill her after all."

There was nothing I could say to that, no comfort I knew to ease his pain that he wasn't already doing. I'd thought yesterday was bad in terms of truths revealed. This threatened to top it off. I didn't know whether to leave him alone, or to stay and make sure he was alright, but he took the decision out of my hands.

"This is not your place, Sakura," he said quietly. "Please leave me be. At least when I'm alone, I can pretend she's still here." He was right. It wasn't my place at all. For him to have even revealed this much to me spoke of his mental state.

"If you need someone to talk to," I offered before parting, knowing it was futile even while doing so, but unable to leave well enough alone, because it was a healer's duty to ease pain.

He didn't answer. But then, it was not as if I expected him to.

* * *

Naruto had stayed and talked for awhile, before leaving to meet Hinata, and Itachi had been put to bed, sleepily enthusing about all the new ramen flavours he was going to try. (Naruto, you are so dead. As if I didn't have enough to handle without having to deal with a growing ramen addiction.) For once having nothing pressing to do, I allowed myself to sprawl across the sofa after cleaning up for dinner, mind drifting.

It had been a long, exhausting day, and there were so many things to think about, I didn't know where to start. I had to decide what to do with Itachi, on a permanent basis. What could he do, with the legacy his father had left behind? His was a bloody heritage, and without the skills the academy could provide, I shuddered to think what would happen to him in the future. Sure, I could teach him what I knew, but it wouldn't be enough, wouldn't be the same as formal training.

Then there was what Kabuto had said. _You can't keep the child_. He might have been lying, but the damage was done. If I lived the rest of my life with Itachi, there would always be that seed of doubt about whether I'd lose him one day to an unknown threat. It was Kabuto's revenge, in a way.

And then there was Sasuke. In my quest to discover who he'd been in his missing years, I'd found unpleasant things that should have been better left undisturbed. If any of what Kabuto had implied was true…

I found that I didn't really want to think about Sasuke.

_You haven't mourned him yet_.

Naruto had said that before he'd taken his leave, looking worriedly into my eyes. I'd looked away with a forced laugh, unable to bear that penetrating gaze that seemed to see right through me. _I don't know what you're talking about_.

He took me by the shoulders. _You loved him for a long time, and you probably hated him for much of that time too. But I haven't seen you shed one tear for him yet._

_I save my tears for those who deserve it,_ I'd said coldly.

_Then cry for yourself if not for him_.

I leaned my head back and considered his words. Didn't he understand? I was sick of crying. Tears had come so easily to me before and they'd never solved anything. I sighed. After such a day, I was too weary to sort out all my feelings. They were too tangled to identify them singly, and going to bed suddenly seemed like a very attractive option.

A chakra signature that was entirely too familiar coalesced at my window. I sighed. I should have known I couldn't get away for long.

"Back so soon?" I said, turning my head to observe Kakashi, perched upon the windowsill like a huge grey bird of ill omen.

He looked tired, and it occurred to me to wonder why he'd come here. It didn't seem as if he'd returned home at all.

"I'm beginning to think," he said slowly, "That the Feudal Lord's wife is an imbecile."

"Cat ran away again?" I asked sympathetically.

He heaved an irritable sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if it did. But no, something more valuable than a pet went missing this time. Heirloom jewels," he elaborated.

"Search and retrieval of lost items?" I frowned. "That's C-rank, at best. You shouldn't be doing it."

"I know." He rubbed a hand over his face. "But she has the money to insist on A-rank, and God knows we need the funds for the reconstruction efforts."

"So?"

He blinked at me.

"Did you find the jewels?"

He hopped down from the windowsill. "Turned out to be a simple case of theft. There was a jackdaw nest near her house, and she'd left the jewels – set as a brooch in shiny silver– on a table near an open window. I'm sure you can guess what happened next."

I grinned. "So the great Kakashi spent the afternoon climbing trees?"

"I got _pecked_," he groused, and I laughed.

As he came closer, I caught a whiff of something that made me sneeze violently. "What the -" I took another, cautious sniff at him. "You're _reeking_ of perfume!"

"Ah, the hazards of our occupation," he drawled. "Madame Shijimi has expensive taste – if not sense of smell – in perfume. And she was…very grateful for the return of her jewels." I could imagine Madame Shijimi hugging Kakashi to her ample bosom while he tried to fend her off. "It's called Exotic Paradise, I believe, though I have to say I much prefer my own Icha Icha Paradise."

I snorted. "Exotic? So is skunk musk, but you don't see anyone spraying it on themselves." Covering my nose with one hand, I pointed up the stairs with the other. "Bathroom's down the hall. Leave your clothes outside, I'll wash them for you."

"That bad, eh?" He looked amused. "I guess I've grown acclimatized to the smell. Or else my nose has rotted off."

I pointed out that _I_ hadn't grown used to it and didn't want to. The perfume was of an alcohol base, with a hideous flowery scent that attacked the tender olfactory senses with all the gentleness of a whack to the face. My eyes were already watering.

"I didn't bring any clothes," he told me. "Do you expect me to sit around in a towel waiting for my uniform to dry?"

An entirely much too tempting image. "You can borrow some of – some of Dad's old clothes. You're about the same size." I said hastily.

Sorting through the overly fragrant pile of cloth on the floor, I was disappointed but unsurprised to see he'd retained his mask (and his underwear of course – _If he even wore any_, interjected Inner Sakura wickedly – I hurriedly found something else to think about). But then, this was a man who'd kept his face a secret from an entire village, as well as three intensely curious students, so it was hardly likely that he would slip now.

The sound of water pattering on tiles could be heard through the door, and I knew he could sense me standing out here, for a longer period than necessary. I wondered suddenly if he'd locked the door, and if he hadn't, if it was because he knew I'd be out here. I hadn't heard the metallic click of the bolt sliding home.

_Coward_, taunted Inner Sakura when I turned away. Probably, but I was not about to barge in on a bathing man unless I was sure of my welcome.

He was a quick bather. I'd barely shaken out a suitable set of clothes from the chest in my parents' room when I heard the bathroom door open.

I'd been right about the lock.

I came out into the hallway to pass him the clothes and tell him to try them on for size but the words died in my throat.

Kakashi leaned against the doorway, clad in nothing but a towel and his mask, vigorously rubbing his hair dry with a smaller towel. His forehead protector was slung over one shoulder. I'd speculated at the muscles his thin shirt had only hinted at, and now that his chest was bare before me, I saw that all my imaginings had done him no justice. To sum it up, he was…_impressive_.

I was staring, the clothes forgotten in my arms, until he cleared his throat. Flushing, I jerked my gaze up to find his mismatched eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I could stand here like this all night if you'd like, but it's really quite cold."

I thrust the clothes at him. "Go – dress," I croaked. "So I can talk – properly – to you." And before the rest of my brain cells stopped functioning. He chuckled low in his throat, a purely masculine sound. So much for not embarrassing myself. If he hadn't known I was attracted to him before, then me standing with my jaw touching the ground openly drooling had certainly clinched it.

The clothes weren't a bad fit. He was taller than my father, but they both had that same breadth to the shoulders. Being a merchant (neither of my parents were ninjas), he'd been away on business trips quite a lot, and he'd loved to wear brightly patterned shirts that had made my mother and I complain he was an eyesore. I'd selected one with more muted colours, printed all over with tiny leaves, but it still brought a pang to see it on another man.

"It looks good on you," I said, arranging the collar and lapels of his shirt the way my mother used to do with my father. He stared down at me. The forehead protector was back in place, and the one grey eye I could see was inscrutable. I was abruptly very aware of our nearness to each other.

We both remained silent for a long moment, and I felt a different tension in the air that hadn't been between us before. "Last night," he said finally. Paused. "Last night was a mistake." I felt my stomach turn leaden and numb.

"I see." I looked away, feeling humiliation looming like some huge, unstoppable thing.

"But I'd like to rectify it now."

What? Did I just miss some part of the conversation? I must have been gawping up at him with the most ridiculous expression on my face because he suddenly smiled. "That means I'd like to kiss you again," he confided in a whisper. "This time while in my right mind."

"Oh," I said, feeling foolish.

I waited for him to lower his head, and he seemed about to, but then his eye narrowed and a hand came up to touch my bottom lip. "Who did this?" The quiet anger in his voice was rather alarming, and gratifying. I'd almost forgotten about it; the lovely afternoon spent in bright sunlight and good company had gone far towards expunging the morning's unpleasantness. There had been little bleeding, and I'd healed the surface of the wound so that it wouldn't be visible unless on closer inspection – I hadn't wanted anyone to comment on how I'd gotten it – but the lip was still tender.

"It's nothing," I said. "Just an accident." I didn't feel like telling him how I'd come by such an injury. Somehow, I didn't think he'd approve of what I'd done.

"Does it have anything to do with how you left in a hurry this morning?"

Goddamn, but the man was sharp, and he'd find out the truth sooner or later, but I would rather not talk about it tonight. It was late, and I didn't want to dredge up the darkness in that cell and then have to face the real darkness on my own, so I only said, "Yes," and when it looked like he was going to ask me further, "But don't ask me now. I'll tell you some other time."

_You could always ask him to stay,_ whispered Inner Sakura treacherously. _You wouldn't be afraid of the dark then_.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "In the morning?" he asked. I didn't know if the implications in that question were real or imagined, put into my mind by my Inner voice.

"You going to stay the night again?"

He gazed at me solemnly. "Only if you want me to."

I opened my mouth to tell him to stay, or better yet, to kiss me, but suddenly the words wouldn't come. Standing before me dressed in my father's clothes, it was as if the shade of my father was coaxed from my memory. My throat felt tight.

"Why did you really come here tonight?" I asked instead.

"What do you think?" His voice was low, husky.

I took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I think you should come back when you're dressed in your own clothes again."

His visible eye closed as his head dipped once, in acknowledgement or acceptance for what I had said.

"Goodnight then," he said, and was gone, leaving me staring out an empty window into the night.

I started to turn off the lights and lock the windows (Konoha's borders were secure, but there was still the common burglar to worry about), when there came a light tapping on my door.

It couldn't be Kakashi again, since he'd just left, and Kakashi wasn't in the habit of using doors anyway. Neither could it be an urgent summons from the Hokage; the messenger would have called out by now. Tired and irritable from my long rollercoaster day, I thought to ignore it at first, but the knocking was insistent.

"All right already, I'm coming!" I yelled with bad grace. Whoever was here at this hour better have a damn good reason.

I opened the door to find Itachi, the older, deadlier one, on my doorstep.

He took off the straw hat that kept his crimson eyes shadowed. "I heard that you're sheltering my nephew," he said.

* * *

To be continued

A/N: And yet another cliffhanger! I seem to be inordinately fond of those, or at least, that's how my mind orders the chapters.

For those who were disturbed by the interrogation scene, please keep in mind that it is Kabuto talking here, whether it's true or not is up to you to believe him. (As a side note: I really doubt that a guy wearing a large purple bow could possibly be straight. Surely I'm not the only one who suspected Orochimaru was gay?) I know this chapter came in really late, but it is very long, as you can see, and I had quite a few plot kinks to iron out. I do not know if there is such a thing as a white hibiscus, but I believe that with genetic modification, anything is possible.

I recently received an email notice about writers not being allowed to respond to their reviewers in the chapters (Thanks Snotty Chim-Chim!), and to play on the safe side and still poke one in the eye of FFN, any and all response to reviewers will be on my profile page. So there. They can't keep me from talking to you guys. To those whom I sent that email on to, sorry if it was a bother, I don't have anyone to send to who's on FFN, so I picked reviewers at random!


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